The Curse of Sherlock Holmes
by Merlyn
Summary: Doctor Watson dreads April Fool's Day, and with good reason.


The Curse of Sherlock Holmes

There was only one day of the year I dreaded. The First of April. April Fool's Day.

No matter what his mood, Sherlock Holmes would always go out of his way to drive myself and Mrs Hudson up the wall with his seemingly endless practical jokes. Every year we prayed that he would have grown tired of childish pranks, but every year our prayers went

unanswered. All I could think of as I carefully climbed out of bed (checking first for anything in my slippers or on the floor) was that evening could hardly come fast enough.

Thankfully he didn't seem to have altered the clocks, unlike last year where I'd spent the morning rushing around thinking like a headless chicken until I asked the paper-boy what time it was.

Nothing in my wardrobe or drawers. Um.

I carefully descended the stairs without incident and entered the sitting room where I found a cheerful Sherlock Holmes tucking into a good breakfast. This was a delightful sight indeed, so I sat down feeling that perhaps this year he had decided to behave and make up for the previous years.

"You seem in good spirits." I remarked as I poured my morning coffee.

"It's a fine morning, doctor." He replied.

I glanced about the room at the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows and found that I heartily agreed that it was a fine morning. Mixing several **spoonfuls** of sugar into my morning coffee (Holmes has often remarked he found it ironic that being a doctor I had such a sweet tooth) I smiled at him. He smiled back. I found myself blushing slightly under his gaze and quickly took a sip of coffee.

"Eugh!" I spat the foul mixture back into my cup. "Salt?" I remarked wiping my mouth with my napkin, "hardly the most original thing, Holmes."

"I'm afraid that on this occasion I am quite innocent."

"Really."

"Really."

I sighed. "You'll be telling me it was Mrs Hudson next."

"Perhaps it was. She does after all possess a sense of humour."

It should be perhaps brought to the readers attention that our good landlady's one attempt at a joke went disastrously wrong and has never been referred to since (although I did discover that Sherlock Holmes is terrified of spiders).

"I doubt it."

"Really doctor, you should be more trusting."

"Um."

The rest of the morning passed surprisingly uneventful, which worried me considerably and I spent most of my time keeping a watchful eye on Holmes. However he seemed perfectly quiet buried in his indexes and perhaps this year I was safe from his pranks but I was careful not to fall into a false sense of security as Holmes's mind had a devilish turn.

"Watson."

"Um?"

"Are you aware of the amazing properties of glass?"

"Of glass?"

"Yes."

"Amazing properties?"

"Must you repeat everything that way?"

"Sorry. But, no what are the amazing properties of glass?"

"Well, did you know that under certain circumstances it _is_ possible to pin a glass of water to a wall."

"Pin a glass of water to a wall?"

"I believe I've just told you not to repeat everything, Watson."

"Oh come on! All right, Holmes, how is it possible to pin a glass of water to a wall?"

"Well." He took up the jug from the table and filled a glass, "hand me a pin from the desk." I did so. "If you would so observe..." He moved over to the wall held the glass to about head height and dropped the pin onto the floor. "Oops, so clumsy of me. Would you?" My

intrigued far outweighed my caution and so I complied with his wishes. As he poured the water over my head I realised how foolish I was. Holmes laughed, "you can be rather gullible at times, Watson."

"And you can be insufferable."

"Thank you."

The morning continued to pass without any further incidents. Lunch arrived and I inspected my meal carefully before starting, Holmes laughed as I did so.

"I thought you didn't believe that Mrs Hudson played practical jokes?"

"I don't, it's you I don't trust."

Everything seemed in order so I took up the salt pot and began to shake it over my meal. At first nothing happened, so I gave it another shake. Still nothing. Mildly puzzled I gave the salt pot a thoroughly good shake. To my complete shock, the top blew off rather

spectacularly showing me with a covering of foam. Sherlock Holmes to his credit sat opposite me during this spectacle with a completely straight face.

"Unusual behaviour from salt." Holmes observed sipping his tea. I glared at him, excused myself to change and to seek out a new meal.

Once cleaned up and fed I decided to get on with some writing (planning of course to bring to the public's attention one or two embarrassing incidents that took place during some of Holmes's cases). I opened my desk draw and could of sworn I heard a click, as a

mass of paper descended from the ceiling above me I decided that I had indeed heard a click.

"Do your tricks always have to be so damned messy?" I commented brushing the paper from my hair.

"You're still convinced that I am behind all this?" He asked looking over his newspaper at me.

I snorted, brushing paper from my desk, "the exploding salt pot?"

"There are plenty of chemistry texts about the house."

"All this must have taken a lot of effort, Holmes."

"I'm innocent."

"Of course you are." I turned back to my desk and tried to lift my pen. It was glued to the desk. "I'm going out."

"Very well."

"I might be back in time for dinner, although it might be safer for me to spend the night out."

"Perhaps."

I took up my jacket from the back of the chair and headed out of the sitting room, collecting my coat, hat and cane from the stand as I left. Stepping onto the hallway rug I almost had a heart attack as the rug began to make loud explosions as I walked across it. Mrs Hudson came rushing out of her sitting room.

"Mr Holmes?" Was all she asked.

I nodded in reply trying to make my way across the rug.

Once I finally made it out of the house I decided to spend the rest of my day at the club. When I returned just after midnight, slightly tipsy, I found Holmes dozing in his arm chair.

I clapped my hands, and was much amused to see that he jumped slightly. "Holmes... as it is now the second of April could you please explain how you did those tricks?"

"Tricks?"

"Holmes."

"Oh, all right." He sat up, "firstly the sugar/salt mix up was _not_ mine, that was Mrs Hudson's. As you observed yourself, it wasn't quite as creative as previous years. The pining of the glass to wall was suggested to me by Billy."

"By that you mean he got you?"

"Yes, quite. The exploding salt was quite simple really - concentrated lemon juice, tissue paper and bicarbonate of soda."

"Of course! When I shook the pot the tissue broke down and the reaction between the acid and base caused the 'explosion' and the foam was lemon juice and soda."

"Elementary." He smiled at me. "Your desk required a certain amount of planning. I ran a piece of string from the back of the draw, up the wall to a covered spot directly above your head. The string triggered a mousetrap which in turn pulled a piece of card away from a

funnel, showering you with pieces of paper."

"Incredible. How did you know it would work?"

"None of my jokes are entirely original, Watson."

"Fair enough. The exploding rug?"

"A dried mixture of iodine crystals and ammonia hydroxide."

"I should have remembered that one from medical school. It was one of the favourite jokes to pull on the nurses. Gluing my pen to the desk was perhaps your least creative moment."

"That was Billy, he's becoming quite the little joker."

"I wonder who he gets that from."

"Are you saying I'm a bad influence on our young page boy?"

"Yes. Good night."

"Night."

* * *

**Spoonfuls –** artistic licence here as mostly likely it would have been sugar lumps. 

The only pranks I have personal experience of as the glass one and the gluing of a pen to a desk. I cannot say if any of the others actually work, but I'm sure there are people out there who can tell me.


End file.
